


Somebody Else

by christengillan



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-07-21 18:06:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7397980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christengillan/pseuds/christengillan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was too early for sleep yet too late for a walk outside.</p><p>The meeting with the Northern Lords and the Vale had ended and Sansa needed to clear her mind from everything. She'd been ecstatic when the Northern Lords rallied around her brother, proclaiming him King in the North. It made her belly twist and her hands shake, but with an excitement that she hadn't felt in so long, she worried that she'd never feel it again. But after her conversation with Lord Baelish followed by the lingering looks he cast her way during the proclamation, Sansa couldn't help but be concerned.</p><p>Would he do anything rash?<br/>Of course he would, he was Littlefinger.</p><p>Sansa had a lot to think about now that she was home and she knew managing Littlefinger was a priority. But before she could deal with that, before she could begin using her mind for more diplomatic purposes again, she had to deal with being back here in Winterfell.</p><p>And the first place she knew to start was her old bedroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One: Sansa

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so, sorry about the wordy summary. This is the first fanfic that I've written in a long time - and actually the first one ever to be posted on AO3 (Yay!) - so just bear with me, please. 
> 
> I'm obviously all aboard this Jon and Sansa ship. I can't help myself. I tried to fight it, truly I did but season 6 really fucked with my emotions and forced these two fuckers on me, so now I'm doomed - destined to fall down the rabbit hole of this nonsense. Now, I have this inkling feeling that the double D's and GRRM will probably discourage a romance between these two when WE KNOW that they're the ones who did this to us. (And Kit and Sophie's awesome chemistry didn't hurt, but I digress). I'm all aboard this hurt train until it ends, and even then, I'll probably still be sailing on. If your like me and you like to punish yourself with these lovelies, then hop on! I promise to never lead you astray, or leave you hanging. 
> 
> I have no intention for this fic to be super long. I write and publish smutty shit to Amazon, so that takes a small chunk of my time and I also have a job, because bills are a super bummer without a job. With that said, just know that I will ALWAYS finish a fic. If I'm a little slow on updates, don't crucify me too bad because, like I said, I'm a wee bit busy but also do not think that I've abandoned you, either. 
> 
> Now that I've said my piece, I hope you enjoy the fic! It will be told in alternating POV's between Jon and Sansa. Review or like, whichever you prefer, any love is good love. :) 
> 
> Oh, and I don't own these characters. Kudos to the Double D's and GRRM for these babies.

I’m not sure why I went back there but I did. 

I walked down the long corridor, passed the Lord’s chambers, then Bran and Rickon’s rooms, then Robb’s, and made a right turn down the winding staircase. 

Finally I was there. 

The door was firmly closed and the corridor looking exactly as it had the last time I’d left. It was funny how I’d spent almost my whole life in this hall. In my chamber or Arya’s or the stitching boudoir further down the hall, yet the only thing that I could recall about the entire place was the time I’d spent here under Ramsay’s rule. 

I was confined to this area, it seemed. Kept prisoner in my own home. One would think that I would avoid this section of the castle at all costs; it wasn’t as if I needed anything from here anyway. All of my personal belongings had been gone before I’d even arrived the last time. But a masochistic place inside of me yearned to go in there. To see my childhood bedroom one last time before I closed the door on that part of my life for good. 

The cold seeped into my bones as I pushed open the door, the thick cloak over my shoulders doing little to stave off the chill of the fireless chamber. My candle lit the way fairly as I took in the room. 

The smell of musty lavender and copper lingered in the air, as if the room hadn’t been touched since I’d last been here. I was long past caring about the smell of blood, knowing that it was undoubtedly my own that stained the air in here. Ramsay loved to see fresh blood against the clean linens of my bed. 

He’d told me on more than one occasion.

When he first began taking me, I always bled. Not a lot, but enough to get a dab or two on the sheets each time. 

It only spurned him on more when I bled. So much so that if I didn’t bleed enough to his liking, he would spill more his own way. 

My back held proof of that. 

After that, I began stripping the bed of the linens whenever he left - praying that my lady's maid would take them away when she came to help me with a bath.   
But she never did. 

Ramsay forbad it. 

He knew that I hated the sight of blood. He knew that it made me ill to see the reminders of our nights together - that I tore the sheets and coverlets off every time he left my presence. 

He knew and that’s why he never had them changed. 

It became a running amusement of his to have me put them back on myself in front of him each night before he took me again. 

Eventually I just left them on all together. I don’t want to remember about what he did when I started doing that. 

Shaking off the thought, I entered more firmly into the dwellings to see that I was correct, nothing had changed. Everything was the same, from the exact placement of the chair by the table to the meal that I had abandoned before I’d left, now moldy and ruined in the stale chamber. As I drew closer to the bed I could see that it had remained the same as well, the ruined sheet peeking out just so from beneath the dark coverlet. I shuddered at the sight, angry at myself for still letting him have a hold on me. 

It felt good watching as his hounds tore him piece by piece from his rotten bones, indulging on his twisted flesh as he screamed and begged.   
Oh, how I loved hearing him beg for mercy as I walked away from him. It was sweeter than any sound that I’d ever heard and I almost yearned to hear it again just to solidify that he was gone. 

But I’d saw him die. 

I knew that he was never coming back.   
The thought warmed me as the shadows of the room embraced me, luring me in. 

A flicker of a memory of me in this room with Arya when she was five years old flashed through my minds eye. She would crawl into my bed sometimes, afraid to sleep in her room by herself since she wasn’t allowed to sleep in Mother and Father’s chamber anymore. I would roll my eyes as she sidled up next to me, her small body warming me better than any quilt as we fell asleep in the dark. I let on like I hated it; as if her fear was a nuisance to me when in truth I loved those moments. I just wished I had the chance to tell her that. 

I drew in a shaky breath as the shadow of the bed became clearer, the small flame of the candlelight illuminating objects that were entirely new to the room. 

Thick, iron shackles were bolted to either side of the headboard, delicately strewn about the pillows as if they were a rose petal garnish. Directly between the two cuffs lie three different knives of varying sizes and blades; from a sharp edge to a serrated one, the flayed man emblem carefully carved into each handle. 

But that wasn’t all. 

Because out of all of the terrifying new additions that Ramsay seemed to add while I was away, the most terrifying of them all sat rolled and sealed against the tips of each blade. 

It was a letter.   
A letter addressed to me. 


	2. Two: Jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who reviewed, kudos(ed), and read the first chapter. I know that it's not much, so I really appreciate it. :) 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this one as well - and if there are any grammar, editing, spelling mistakes that's all on me. This is a solo project, so no beta-readers except this ole gal. 
> 
> Enjoy!!!

“M’lord, Lady Sansa is not in her room. Would you like me to look elsewhere for her?” The maid, whom I’d never seen before, addressed me. I was in Father’s solar, my solar now I suppose, going through Father and Lady Catelyn’s things - at least what was left of them. From all accounts, it looked as if most things were left the same, not that Father would have cluttered up the area anyway. The only thing that was truly different were the flayed man seals on the desk instead of Direwolf. 

 

I quickly disposed of everything Bolton related before I came across an old crate in the storage section of the room. It was mostly scrap paper and letters from when Father was last here, but there was something significant in the lot. A small wrapped box addressed to Arya from Lady Catelyn. There was no love lost between me and the former Lady of Winterfell, but I knew that it would mean something to Sansa. It may even cheer her up. That was my hope at least when I sent the maid to find her. The poor woman had been wondering aimlessly around the halls, no doubt concerned about what would happen to her after the death of her former master, before I set her to task. The lass was no more than sixteen years of age and skittish as a mouse; a common theme, I’ve observed, amongst many members of Ramsay’s household. 

 

I’d last left Sansa in Robb’s old rooms. Not only was it larger, but it was further away from her old chambers; a place I gathered that she wasn’t interested in visiting again. 

 

“No, that’s alright. You can settle in for the night, Myna. Thank you for everything.” The girl nodded her head meekly once before scurrying away. I sighed at the sorry state of things, exhausted to the core but knowing that I needed to find Sansa. At the very least to have peace of mind that she was okay. 

 

***

I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my gut. 

 

It was too dark for Sansa to be outside, yet I’d checked the stables, the outside terraces of the castle, and even the bloody kennels - all to no avail. Before that, I checked every part of the house I could think of her to be in, certain that she wouldn’t go to the one place she'd promised not too. 

 

As I lit my lantern, however, and made the quiet trek down the winding stairs to where her and Arya’s chambers used to be, I knew that I was wrong. 

 

The door to her room was slightly open, the dim light of a candle beckoning me from the stairwell. If I was a praying man, I would have prayed for her to never come back down here, but alas I was not. The only thing I could do was hope for the best - for all the bloody good that was worth. 

 

The hinges squeaked as I pushed the door open fully, revealing the room to me. I’d only been in here once or twice when I was a young lad but even so I could tell that the room looked completely different. What was once a well-lit room decorated with plentiful trinkets, cloaks and gowns was now a shell of a space, littered with cobwebs and dust. The room itself stank of old flowers, mildew and… blood.

 

Fire and ice flooded my veins at that causing my fists to clench on their own accord as I took in the form of my half-sister. 

 

She knelt on the cold floor, her cloak long since abandoned in a heap around her knees as she clutched at a piece of parchment. Her eyes were transfixed to the letter in her hands, not bothering to acknowledge my presence as I crept closer to her. 

 

“Sansa…” I called, over and over, yet she never spoke. The further I stepped in, the more the rest of the room came into view. 

 

The bed, Gods the bed nearly undone me. 

 

The unmade linens were a knotted mess on the feather mattress showing bits and pieces of white-grey sheets splotched with rusty colored stains - colors that I was all too familiar with. The further I took in the bed, the more obvious it became to me that the coverlet was artfully posed to emphasize the ruined sheets below. When I looked towards the head of the bed, the sight I beheld was almost worse. Two thick metal shackles lay about the pillows along with an array of hunting knives; poised and, dare I say, neat amongst the filthy linens and unmade bed. 

 

For the second time since I’d been brought back, I could feel the blood beneath my skin boil. It was something I hadn’t felt since I saw Ramsay’s arrow pierce Rickon’s heart and now again as I saw what the bastard had in store for Sansa.

 

Hell, what he’d probably already done to Sansa. I yearned to go back to that courtyard, to feel his flesh break and bend against my knuckles. If I had the chance, I’d prolong the torture. Perhaps flay him like he’d done to so many others. Fuck, I wished that I had the chance to make him pay just one more time. 

 

The rage was all encompassing. The lantern in my hand began to flicker with the quake of my fury and I knew I was moments away from roaring and burning the whole bloody room to bits. But then I looked at Sansa, still unaware of my presence or at least not acknowledging it, and I knew that I had to calm myself. 

 

She’d been so strong, so composed throughout the whole ordeal,  I’d worried that whatever Ramsay had done to her had taken away her will for everything save for revenge. But the last few days spoke otherwise. I’d seen the girl that she once was, the pampered Princess of Winterfell who blushed at a compliment and made demands on a whim - but I also saw a woman. A woman who took charge and made sure that others were fed and accounted for. That made sure her baby brother, whom she had helped her Mother raise and care for, had a proper burial and wake - something that no teenage girl should have the responsibility of doing, yet she did. 

 

Seeing her this way made it feel like all of that was just a dream. 

 

Placing my light on the floor, I kneeled beside of her, gathering up her cloak and wrapping the garment around her thin shoulders. After it was secured around her throat, I placed my hands over hers on the parchment, the cold tendrils of her skin almost as biting as my own. 

 

“Talk to me. Please.” I coaxed my fingers between her frigid digits, uncaring if I ripped or creased the letter. She was freezing and vacant and I needed her to look at me. Regret and relief warred within me when her gaze finally met my own. How her Tully-blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears but still managed to look cold and emotionless frightened me. It was so unlike the girl that she was before who would cry over the smallest of things. You could always tell how Sansa was feeling by her eyes. Now, though, she just looked …. empty. 

 

“Sansa…” 

 

The fire in me blazed once more when she finally spoke, the edges of my vision licking with red-black flames as she smirked. 

 

“Even in death, he continues his torment. I told you that you couldn’t protect me. Not from him. Not ever.” 

 

When her grip finally loosened on the letter, she dropped her head against my shoulder, letting out all of the pain she’d been holding behind her scarred eyes. I cradled her close to me as I unfurled the wrinkled note, heavy dread stoking my internal fires. 

 

_ To my wife Sansa, the fairest Lady I know…..  _


	3. Three: Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the short chapter folks and any and all grammar/spelling/editing mistakes. I had a busy day today, but I wanted to make sure this chapter, specifically, was done. 
> 
> Hope ya'll are enjoying my take on what happens after 6x10 so far. It's dark - I know - but with these two characters what else can you expect? ;)

_To my wife Sansa, the fairest Lady I know,_

 

_Words cannot express how pleased I am that you are here,_

_Back in your bed, where I can keep you near._

_I mourned when you went away,_

_Skinning your villagers just to count the days._

_Oh, how I tremble to show you their skins,_

_It's been awhile since the first one, so I know they've gone thin._

_And the meat from their bones - so juicy and succulent,_

_Just ask your wild little brother, he enjoyed the supplement._

_Now, I bet you're thinking, "How will I ever know?"_

_I suppose you never will as I shot him with my arrow._

_Forgive me my Pet, but you put me through a lot,_

_You are lucky that I do not just leave you to rot._

_With that said, your punishment is still due,_

_For I cannot wait until you see what I have in store for you._

_Cuffs and cuts, you are accustomed to that by now,_

_What I have planned will make even the strongest man cow._

_Your Bastard, too, will soon know my wrath,_

_That is, I presume, if he survives the bloodbath._

_The shackles are for him, you see, so that he can watch,_

_As I fuck you raw and watch your blood splotch._

_You know I like it, sweetling, when you bleed,_

_Your Bastard will too, for he is of rotten seed._

_Worry not Dear Love, I forgive you for all that you have done,_

_After all, if you are reading this you know that I have won._

_And even if I did not - which I doubt is true,_

_Everything I have done will become a part of you._

 

_Forever and Always, from this day forth,_

_Lord Ramsay Bolton, Warden of the North_

 

***

The castle could have collapsed over my head and I would not have felt it. I was numb, it seemed, unable to feel, hear, or see anything but Ramsay’s parting words.

 

I thought it was all over. Reclaiming our home, taking back the North and Winterfell, and finally putting what happened with Ramsay behind me - yet here he was, persecuting me even in death. He was clever creature, my husband.

 

This was what I had warned Jon about before the battle. I told him not to underestimate _him_ \- to expect the unexpected - still I did not heed my own advice. I should have known that Ramsay would do something like this. To ensure that a contingency plan was in place in the event that he lost the battle.

 

His death tasted cold on my tongue. How I wished that I would have left his body intact. Maybe then the Red Woman could have resurrected him so that I could kill him again. I would have begged Jon not to send her away just to have another chance at killing him, over and over and over. I would make his death much worse than what his hounds did to him. I’d prolong his death this time. Savor the sweet smell of his corrupt bastard blood as _I_ sliced him apart, piece by piece. As _I_ fed him his traitor soldiers. As _I --._

 

No. No, I’d never be able to do something like that. Gods, my poor baby Rickon. If only I’d never escaped. I could have been here for him. I would have given Ramsay anything - _anything,_ not to harm my sweet Rickon.

 

And those people.

 

It was almost too much to bear, thinking of the dozens of people killed during the months I'd been away. How long had it been, four or five months? I couldn’t even remember.

 

It was then that I noticed skin against my own. Fingers so frigid that they almost felt warm as they plunged between my own. I followed the large hand upwards until Jon’s coal black eyes stared back at me. He looked tired; worn and torn from the battle and his new position in the North. I was surprised at the smidgen of pity that I felt for him just then. I was surprised I felt anything at all. 

 

“Sansa…” He said my name like a prayer and a part of me broke. Jon and I had never been close, it was no secret, but now he was all that I had. Sadly, he was too late. Everyone was always too late, I thought with a smirk.

 

“Even in death, he continues his torment. I told you that you couldn’t protect me. Not from him. Not ever.”

 

The candle was close enough to me that I could have burned the letter. I could have eradicated the evidence of Ramsay’s last game so that I alone shouldered the burden of what he’d done.

 

But I was too selfish for that.

 

Instead I loosened my hold on the parchment, watching as Jon tilted the letter ever so slightly towards himself.

  
And then I cried for the both of us.


	4. Four: Jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay in chapters. As I mentioned at the beginning of the story, I have a job and I write books on the side, so this is more of a fun, selfish project for me. And I am SO very grateful for all of you who are reading, leaving kudos, and commenting. It means so much to hear that ya'll like this story so far and I don't want to let you down. With that said, I'm posting two chapters today. I hope ya'll enjoy them! Let me know what you think with a comment or a kudos! :)

Fire.

 

Fire was all that I could feel. 

 

In my blood, in my bones, in my heart - it consumed me. Even the icy winter air of the North could not soothe my rage. 

 

Sansa managed to cry herself into a fitful sleep against my shoulder as I finished Ramsay’s twisted poem, making me at once grateful that she wasn’t awake to see me seethe. I could have sworn that my skin started to heat as I reflected on what Ramsay was telling Sansa. 

That’d he’d killed countless people in her name, and then fed them to… Gods, I couldn’t even think of it. My empty gut turned and I began to shake, praying that Ramsay was still with us now so that I could kill him all over again. 

 

Sansa whimpered in her slumber, a fog of condensed air puffing from her lips. The chamber must feel cold to her, I imagined. Winter was here and there was no fire to be seen in this corridor. Post-death numbness combined with my forge-like wrath warmed me greater than any fire ever could, but I knew that Sansa was different. Turning towards her, I bundled her small body up as best I could and stood, leaving this frozen Hell behind and taking her to where she truly belonged. 

 

*** 

 

I didn’t care if it was improper for Sansa to be in my bed after she’d already relinquished the Lord’s chambers to me. My steward - a Wildling boy who refused to leave my side ever since we’d left Castle Black - had a fire roaring, as well as the bed made up with furs, comforters, and the like. Robb’s old bedroom had been prepared well enough, but I felt better with Sansa here - at least for the night so that I could keep an eye on her. 

 

After getting her settled in, luckily without her waking, I had to make a trip outside to gather my wits. Thankfully, Father’s old room had an attaching balcony in the solar, that way I could be close to Sansa yet out of the stifling room that did little to put me at ease. 

 

Once I was outside, I stripped off my tunic and then my undershirt, exposing my naked flesh to the onyx world around me. The balcony was private quarters for the Lord and Lady of Winterfell, and by Gods I was glad, because soon after I shed my boots as well, sinking my feet into the virgin snow. I sighed instantly, soothed by the familiar chill around me. 

 

I was still fuming in my disgust but it felt manageable with the cold. I lowered myself down onto the thick layer of packed fluff - nothing save for my breeches to separate the icy flakes from my arse - and thought. 

 

I thought about a lot of things during those hours alone with the bitter wind to keep my company. 

Ramsay’s letter being the most obvious and how I was going to deal with the implications of his words. 

 

But I also thought about earlier this evening, when little Lyanna Mormont proclaimed me, a Bastard, King in the North. The thought still gave me chills as I recalled all the people who I’d once seen sup in that hall during one time or another (give or take a few younger Lords and Ladies) profess me not only their leader, but their King.    
  


I thought of Littlefinger and the beady-eyed look he shared with Sansa when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. He’d have to be dealt with eventually. Sooner, it seemed, if he thought he’d be using my sister to further his cause any longer. 

 

I also thought about Tormund and Ser Davos. Two unlikely comrades who’d become not only my most trusted advisors but my friends as well. I knew, deep within my cold, punctured heart that they were two of the only people I could trust explicitly with not only my life but the one thing that mattered to me the most: 

 

Sansa. 

 

I’d thought about her most of all. Ever since she’d come back into my life I’d felt like I finally had something to live for. It was ironic that it took me being killed, and subsequently resurrected, for me to realize that I hadn’t had anything to live for in a long time. That was until the fire-haired girl from my childhood strode up on her horse, looking fierce, regal and scared all at once. I knew then, as I tucked my face into her warm neck, that I finally had something I was willing to fight for. 

  
To die for. 


	5. Five: Sansa

Before I even opened my eyes I knew that I was not alone. 

 

It was a certain stillness in the air - the quiet that accompanies someone who is on guard or watching you. 

 

My heart stuttered in my chest, thinking for just one moment that I was back in my old bedroom waiting for Ramsay, only to learn that he’d been there all along. Tucked in my wardrobe, studying me, watching me, as I fearfully awaited his tortures. He’d done that to me many times. Many, many times. 

 

“You can open your eyes, Sansa. It’s just me.” 

 

I sighed immediately. Jon. It was Jon. 

 

I did as he bid and opened my eyes, the lids hardly cooperating against the crusty glue that had hardened overnight. Hmm, I thought offhandedly, I must have cried myself to sleep. I couldn’t remember. All I could recall was that room and that letter. 

 

A sudden chill overtook me and I burrowed into the cover a little more. It was then that I noticed I wasn’t in Robb’s old rooms nor my own. 

This was Mother and Father’s chamber. 

Jon’s chamber now. 

 

I sat up slowly, taking in the room that I hadn’t been inside for years. It looked the same. Simple, clean, and small. It was perfect for Mother and Father. It was perfect for Jon. 

 

He was sitting in a chair, a couple feet from the bed it seemed, in the same clothes he’d had on the day before with what looked to be a slight dampness in the breeches. He must be freezing. “Aren’t you cold?” It seemed a trivial thing to wonder, obvious and irrelevant, but I was curious. And also curious as to why he forfeited his bed to me.  

 

“I’ve had worse.” He sounded weary but he managed a small tilt of his lips. A comforting gesture for my sake, I’ve come to learn. Poor Jon. Did he not know that I knew him better than I knew anyone? Even after being apart for so long, he was so easy for me to read and I loved him for it. After being in the company of the Lords and Ladies of the Capital, not to mention Littlefinger, it was refreshing to be in the company of Jon’s honesty. 

“How’d you sleep?” He followed up, hunkering slightly in his chair. Everything about him spoke of fatigue and had me changing my ready lie of, “Fine,” to the truth. 

 

“Not very good.” My words stuttered as I said it. It was true that I had slept through the night, but my dreams were plagued with nightmares. My brain recreating scenes of Ramsay’s letter over in my head as if I had actually been there. I could feel the film of tears spread across my iris, blurring Jon’s figure in front of me. I wanted to be stronger than this. I promised myself after escaping Ramsay that he’d never have anymore of my tears but I was wrong. In time I knew that I could get over what he’d done to me. The rape, the torture, I could heal from that. But this. What’d he done to those people. To my brother. That was inside of me now.

 

“Don’t. Don’t let him get to you like this,” Jon pleaded, stealing my attention, “We don’t even know if he did that to Rickon --” 

 

“We know.” I bit back, because I did know. Ramsey would never boast about something he hadn’t done. “I know. And it’s all my fault.” 

 

“No. Don’t you dare say that,” He stood up quickly, firing back at me. It was a new version of Jon that I hadn’t seen when we were children. I’d caught glimpses of him like this when we were at the encampment before the battle, but nothing this forward. “This was no fault of yours. With or without you, Ramsay would have killed those people. He didn’t need a reason - he just enjoyed it. If it wasn’t to toy with you, he would have done it to toy with someone else.”  

 

“But Rickon --”    
  
“I know, Sansa. I know. But just as you said, he was never going to let Rickon leave here alive. He presented too much of a threat to Ramsay’s hold on the North. What he did to him…” I could hear the sound of Jon’s teeth grinding as he locked his jaw, “We cannot think of that now. Our entire family is gone. It’s just us. Me and you. And I need you Sansa. I can’t do this without you.” 

 

Oh Jon. 

 

I huddled the furs close to my chest as I met his gaze - so dark they looked almost violet - before I spoke.

  
“I don’t even know who I am anymore, Jon. I feel like I’m somebody else.” My voice was raw with my greatest truth. And my greatest fear. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll liked my Targaryen easter eggs in these past 2 Chapters. I like the thought of Jon feeling hot/overheated when he gets angry. It seems like a super Targaryen trait to have. Oh, and also violet eyes. I'm just throwing shit in at this point, but I do hope you guys enjoy it!


	6. Six: Jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late post you guys! I really wanted to post a Sansa chapter today, but I just couldn't get to it. This chapter is a bit longer, so I hope that helps. 
> 
> I really, really, really appreciate the reviews as well. Seriously, there is nothing greater knowing that people are enjoying your story. It's still progressing a little slow, and I do apologize, but hopefully this chapter shifts everything into gear. 
> 
> Enjoy!!! :)

The next few weeks passed in a flurry of duties and despair. I had to not only keep a watchful eye on how the Free Folk and the Northern Lords interacted during Winterfell's reconstruction phase but also Littlefinger and his Knights of the Vale. The Knights themselves seemed a honest, loyal crew however I could sense disquiet between them and their Lord Protector. It was the silence that grew thick whenever Lord Baelish drew near and the lingering looks whenever he left. It didn’t take a fool to know that Littlefinger’s hold on the Vale was hanging by a thread. 

 

But diplomatic duties weren’t my only concern. In addition to clearing away Ramsay’s messes and finding places for the Free Folk to stay, I had to ensure that Sansa was okay. 

 

She’d found her way back to her own lodgings shortly after she’d arisen in my bed yet I knew she still fought for sleep. Sleeping was something that I didn’t indulge in often, business aside. Another consequence of dying I supposed. I would walk by her room sometimes to make sure that she was alright only to see the faint flicker of candlelight beneath the door. I could detect her moving around behind the wooden barrier but rarely did I ever hear her sleeping. 

 

The toll of that strain could be seen on her face. She was hardly coherent enough to process most of what went on during council meetings, which she adamantly wanted to be apart of. She’d also distanced herself from me, declining my requests to dine with her at sup or to break our fast. 

 

I was cautious to overcrowd her, knowing that she needed her space after everything that Ramsay had put her through, before and after his death. With that said, her avoidance was becoming obvious, if not concerning, and I knew that I needed to make sure that she was alright. 

 

So I searched for her, checking her chambers, the sewing parlor and even the Godswood, all to no avail. My heart jumped from puzzled to truly distressed as I combed through the kitchens, and lastly my solar. 

 

I had no idea where Sansa was. 

 

At last I sought out her ladies maid, quickly finding my answer. 

 

“Lord Baelish called on her m’lord. He wanted to meet with Lady Sansa in his chambers.” Myna said with a nod before going about the rest of her duties. I had to chew on the inside of my jaw to steal my nerves at the revelation. I didn’t trust Littlefinger, especially around Sansa. I took off in a fast walk towards his chambers, not wanting to alarm anyone of the dread that I felt inside. Gods knew what that little worm was up too. No good, I was sure of it. 

 

As I approached the far wing of the castle, where I had housed the members of the Vale and their quasi-Leader, I racked my brain for what I would say or how I would approach the situation at hand. I knew that I needed to be calm and keep a level head, but it seemed a hard prospect as I thought of encountering the man who’d sold Sansa to the filth who ruined her. I’d be lucky if I managed to keep my hands off of his throat. 

 

Nevertheless, when the Knight who stood guard over his door let me in, I wasted no time getting to the point. 

 

“Where is she? Where is my sister?” 

 

Baelish was standing ramrod straight, his hands crossed before him as he calmly replied, “You’re too late.” 

 

***

 

“She just left. I’m surprised that you didn’t meet her on your way here.” His mouth quirked to the side as he spoke, as if he was hiding a smirk behind his words. 

 

It was obvious that I’d been in the North far too long. The tricky politics that I knew of Southerners, particularly ones who’d spent time in King's Landing, weren’t entirely lost on me. I’d watched my father converse with these men from afar. Hells, I’d even dealt with a few of them myself at the Wall, but Littlefinger was something altogether different from what I was accustomed too. In my short meetings with the man I gathered that he put a lot of thought into what he said. Even his breathes seemed to be measured. 

 

“I see. Must have just missed her then.” 

 

“Indeed you did, Lord Snow. Or is it King now?” Not a hint of condescension could be heard but I somehow felt it anyway. In his stare maybe or the tilt of his head as he moved closer to me. 

 

“Jon’s just fine.” I replied, curtly. “Lord Baelish, if I may, what was the purpose of you calling Sansa into your chambers?” The man’s mustache quirked as the forward question left my lips, but I didn’t care. I had neither the time or patience for pleasantries. I had two things that I needed to do; ensure the safety of this castle and Winterfell and protect Sansa at all costs. 

 

“It was a private matter. You see, Lady Sansa and I have an extensive ….. history. I’m sure she’ll tell you if she wants you to know. Something I’m sure you’ll learn about women.” The nonchalant, low tone of his voice irked me as he evaded the question. I could tell the man had no respect for me, or Sansa for that matter - speaking of her as if she were some prickly woman who could be compared to all other women. 

 

He had no idea who she was. 

 

The heat began then, as did the subtle shaking of my hand. It was as if my anger wanted to escape my pores and unleash itself all over Baelish’s smug face. 

 

I took a step closer to the man, trying to reign in the anger that I’m sure was palpable in my face, and spoke. “History is funny in the way that it’s in the past. Try to keep in that way, Lord Baelish.” The man didn’t even flinch as I got within a couple millimeters of his face, “Remember this, my Lord: I know how she came to be in Ramsay’s clutches. I know who sold her to him. And I know what I’ll do to protect her from ever going through anything like that ever again.”

 

I backed away, careful to remain eye contact with the man who looked as if I’d just promised him a seat on my council. Was that a smile on his lips? 

 

_ Control, Jon. Control.  _ It was hard to tell myself that when a man I detested stood before me, mockingly smirking. 

 

“No need for idle threats, Lord Snow. My men and I have done what we came to do; paid our debts so to speak. I expect we’ll be out of your hair in a few days, if not sooner,” He finally said as I reached the chamber door, his grin all but growing wider as I made my retreat. 

 

“Sleep well, Winter King.”


	7. Seven: Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh My Gosh - I am so so sorry for the delay in posting. I am a shitty author!!!! I have been ridiculously busy. In all honestly, it was probably a bad idea to even start a fic due to my new job and everything, but I couldn't help myself and I have NO regrets. I just request you bear with me, please. :) 
> 
> With that said, here is the next chapter. Please don't be to upset with me, especially if it's out of character. Just be patient and see how everything plays out. ;) And I will try not to wait so long before I post the next chapter :) :) 
> 
> Oh and reviews are ALWAYS welcome. They're just extra motivation.

The door resounded as it shut behind me, sealing me inside the room with Littlefinger. 

 

My stomach churned. 

 

I didn’t think he’d harm me physically; it just wasn’t his way. Mentally, however, I was afraid. 

 

He knew my weaknesses, as I knew his, yet he had no qualms about acting on them. I however, didn’t care what he wanted anymore. I didn’t care if he wanted to rule the Seven Kingdoms. I didn’t care if he wanted me by his side. I didn’t care about anything other than keeping Jon safe and at Winterfell where he belonged. And I’d ensure that happened even if it meant staying out of his way and meeting with Baelish behind his back. 

 

“You called for me, My Lord?” I announced, watching him take me in with his beady eyes. Oh how I’d forgotten how calculating he looked, measuring every move I made. 

 

I’m sure that was exactly what he was doing. 

 

“Lady Sansa, please sit.” He gestured towards the small round table in front of the hearth, “Have a lemon cake. I requested them specially for you.” 

 

I took a seat, but declined the cake. The sight of my former favorite dish had my stomach roiling. It reminded me of King's Landing and the Tyrells, of Aunt Lysa, and Ramsay. But I wouldn’t tell Littlefinger that. Better yet, I’m sure he laid them out just to get a rise out of me. How else would the Boltons have known that it was my favorite treat? 

 

“It’s a considerable hour for a meeting, Lord Baelish.” The lateness of the meeting wasn’t what was truly bothering me in all honestly. It was the sneaking around bit that I didn’t care for. 

 

“I apologize, truly. I’ve had a lot of things to square away here before the Knights of the Vale and I make our leave for the Eyrie, but I needed to speak with you first.” My heart started at the excitement of being rid of Littlefinger. 

 

“Say what you need to say, then.” 

 

“Come back with me to the Vale.” 

 

I nearly choked on my breath as he said it. 

 

Come back with him? To the Vale? I’d rather die. 

 

I stood sharply, causing the lemon cakes to bounce in their dish and hurried towards the door. 

 

“Sansa - wait.” Littlefinger called out. Try as I might, I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer. 

 

“You have some audacity to ask me that. After all I have done to come home, to be with the only family I have, and you ask me - no, request that I come back with you? Have you lost your senses?” It was dangerous to talk to Baelish this way; to let him know that he has affected me, but I could not hold back. My hands trembled as he stepped closer to me, just enough to where he looked to be my height before he spoke. 

 

“Maybe I’ve read things the wrong way, but I was under the assumption that you were avoiding your brother. What better way to avoid him than to be far, far away from his reach.” 

 

“You’ve got the wrong idea, Lord Baelish. I’m not avoiding Jon, I’m just staying out of his way. He has more important things to concern himself with. He doesn’t need to worry about me all day.” It was a half-truth, because deep down I knew that Littlefinger was right. 

 

I was avoiding Jon. 

 

Aside from the fact that I couldn’t bare the thought of anything horrible befalling him, I’ve had terrible, disgusting feelings towards him ever since we met up at Castle Black. It was easy to ignore during the battle preparations, but now after everything that has happened and all that we have lost, I just wanted to be closer to him. Closer than a brother and sister ever should. 

 

My stomach curdled as I stared back at Littlefinger. He had that ever maddening, knowing smile across his lips as if he knew exactly what I was thinking and feeling. I had the sudden urge to scream and maul his eyeballs from his sockets, but I contained it. I didn’t want to start another war. 

 

“What better way to protect your brother than by marrying the Vale.” Baelish moved a step closer to me as I began shaking my head from left to right. No, I couldn’t. 

 

“Remember, sweet girl, that I will not always be the Lord Protector of the Vale. Once Robin Arryn comes of age, he’ll be the one calling the shots. It wasn’t long ago that his mother spewed her distaste for the North and their Lords. I’m sure he’s not forgotten.” Littlefinger brought his hands to the front of my cloak, pulling the laces together tight as if ensuring that I wouldn’t catch a chill. Little did he know all he managed to do was make me colder. “Lord Robin is of marrying age, My Lady. We need to move quickly to solidify an unbreakable alliance between two of the strongest houses in the Seven Kingdoms. What do you say?” 

 

If I did this I could ensure the Vale’s loyalty to the North. Plus, Robin would be easy to control. That was obvious by how easily Littlefinger had garnered an Army to help us kill Ramsay’s men. I knew I’d be safe in the Eyrie and I’d have a substantial force at my beck and call - but what about Jon? He was the only person that I had left. My only family. But what could I do for him here? I was a distraction and a liability. And Gods knew that it was taking everything in me not to crawl back in his bed again - this time with him in it. 

 

That was it then. I’d made my decision. 

 

I stood up straighter before I turned around to open the door, not bothering to look back at Lord Baelish as I said, “When do we leave?” 

 

“Two days from now, just before dawn.” I could practically hear his smile as I stepped away from his door. 

 

As I traveled down the maid’s tunnels that I frequently perused as a child, I couldn’t help but think that there was no way I’d survive another arranged marriage. I suppose it was a good thing, then, that I was mostly dead anyway. 


	8. Eight: Jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for such a long wait guys!!! I had to work sooo much this week and I was being a lazy slob, so I do apologize. With that said I do want to add something real quick.   
> I appreciate all the feedback that I get from this story, truly I do. Criticisms are great and really do help when I'm writing, but please - PLEASE - don't attack the character's or their story line. Don't use ugly words towards me or the characters if you aren't pleased with how things are turning out. The story is not over, and I'm still doing some character building. I DID give warning in the last chapter that Sansa may seem a little out of character but then again, isn't everything out of character since the season has ended? ;) 
> 
>  
> 
> I truly hope that not all of you are disappointed. I promise this story has somewhere to go and I'd love for you all to be there when it's complete. 
> 
> OH - and SORRY for any grammar/typos. I wanted to post quickly!!!
> 
> Cheers!! And Happy reading. :)

I could hear her behind the door before I even opened it. 

 

Thank the Gods. 

 

I didn’t know what Littlefinger had up his sleeve but the thought of actually knowing that Sansa was within reach after looking for her for the majority of the day had me breathing a sigh of relief. I was so relieved in fact that I didn’t even bother knocking on the door to announce my presence. No, I grabbed the handle firmly before giving the door a hard push and letting myself in. 

 

The room was lit in a hazy orange, a comforting color accompanied by the reassuring sight of Sansa’s dark Auburn hair greeting me. My mouth tipped into an unconscious smile as I watched her hair sway down the back of her dress as she finally turned towards me, the sight in her hands giving me pause. 

 

Clothes. A stack of clothes to be exact. 

 

Her hold on the folded bundle quavered minutely before I followed her gaze to the open trunk on her bed. 

 

Wait…. Open trunk. Arm full of clothes. What was going on? 

 

It was then that I took in the rest of the room around me. A disarray of wardrobes and drawers were open and overturned. Some even appeared to be empty. When my gaze eventually strayed to the open trunk on her bed, it all finally clicked. 

 

Sansa was leaving. 

 

With him. 

 

The look of surprised terror on her face was over before it even began as she resumed packing. I could only take in the sight before me as I shut the door and made my way closer to her. Minutes passed and still she made no attempt to speak to me. I wanted to wait her out. I wanted her to confess of her own accord but the bastard blood inside of me danced before I could hold my words any longer. 

 

“I thought you said only a fool would trust Littlefinger.” My voice was hoarse and stern yet she didn’t even flinch.

 

Tough woman, my Sansa. 

 

“Yes. And I’ve come to realize I am just that.” She replied without hesitation in her packing. I clenched my fists as the anger built up inside of me. I wanted to argue that she was not a fool - that she was beautiful and smart and all that I had left, but I had to remain calm. Anger would not win this fight, I was sure of it. 

 

“Apparently so, especially if you think that leaving with Baelish is the best thing for you.” 

 

“I do.” 

 

I bit my tongue until I tasted copper as she continued to fold and repeat, fold and repeat. Gods Damn, how many bloody cloaks did one girl need?    
  


I moved closer, stilling her hands and forcing her to look at me as I spoke, “I told you before that  _ we _ needed to trust each other. It’s the only way that we can survive this and what is to come.” 

 

She met my gaze then, the steel facade that she’d had in place crumbling as her hands groped at my own. 

 

“I am doing this for us - for you, so that you can survive. Don’t you see? I am no good to you or anyone else here. At least in the Vale I can marry my cousin Robin and unite our houses. Baelish's hold on the Vale is weak, you know that as well as I, and what is to stop them from siding with the Lannister’s after he is out of power?” 

 

I started at her confession, appalled and sympathetic. After everything she’s been through how can she still be so naive? My stomach twisted at the thought of her selling herself into another one of Baelish’s schemes yet again. Marriage? To the little Lord Robin Arryn? It was too much to bear thinking about. 

 

“Aye, so you plan to marry again? To sell yourself to him, once more?” My tone was liquid metal as I backed away from her. 

 

Hurt flashed over her features before she lowered her gaze to her hands, “It’s the only thing I’m useful for.” 

 

“That’s shit and you know it!” My voice echoed through the room, but I didn’t care. Let the maids come in, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I had failed Sansa in the months that we’d been together if she thought that this was the only thing she was good for. 

 

She was still silent, still staring at her hands as I pulled open the door. 

 

“Men have told you what to do your whole life. I’ll not become another one of them,” I was standing in the threshold of the door and corridor when she finally glanced up at me, “Just know that I don’t want this. I want you here. I need you here. But if you don’t want to be here, with me, then I can’t make you stay.” 

 

Before she could reply I closed the door behind me, making the short walk to my chamber and shutting myself in. I drank two goblets of sleep wine laced with a bit of Milk of the Poppy before I crawled under the furs of my bed, praying to any Gods that would listen for an ounce of rest to get me through the rest of this night. Because if I didn’t, I worried that I would pay Littlefinger one more visit before the night was out - and this time I wouldn’t leave the chambers without his head. 

  
And another war. 


	9. Nine: Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!!! Sorry in advance if there are any grammatical errors - I read over it a couple of times, but things always slip through. :)

I held myself together for a solid ten seconds after the door shut behind Jon.

 

After that, everything seemed to be a blur. I cried and thrashed, knocking my trunk to the floor and scattered all of my folded dresses and cloaks. But I couldn’t seem to care. All that I could picture was Jon’s disgusted face as he backed away from me. I had hoped that I would be able to sneak out of Winterfell undetected by him. I knew that he’d been busy recently and Littlefinger said we would leave in two days. Everything had happened so fast that I hadn’t even thought about what I would tell Jon if I had too. 

 

I guess this was my recompense for being such a coward. 

 

I fell to the floor, grabbing one of the pillows from my bed and screamed. I screamed until my throat felt bloody and raw. I screamed until the last moment, when I knew my lungs needed air. I screamed yet still I did not know what to do. 

 

I wanted to be here with Jon more than I wanted my next breath but I wanted him safe even more. Would he be safe if I didn’t abide by Littlefinger’s request? I’d spurned him once when I turned him down in the Godswood as he went in for a kiss. Would he allow me to be free of him again? 

 

I had a gut feeling that he would not. 

 

Then again, I know the things that he has done. And I know what he’d do to keep those things secret. 

 

But that still didn’t resolve the issue of my feelings for Jon. Could I stay here, so close to him, and not have him? I shuddered at the unnatural turn of my thoughts yet I couldn’t help myself. Everytime he was near, his smoky, alpine scent had my stomach hollowing out in anticipation. 

 

Of what, I wasn’t sure. 

 

Nevertheless, the thoughts brought me back to my time in King’s Landing and the Lannister’s. If it were ever proven that the Queen’s children were actually her brother’s instead of King Robert’s, as my Father was rumored to have said, then they would have been killed. The Queen, Ser Jaime, and all of their children too. 

 

I suppose that didn’t matter though, because I was the one having these inappropriate thoughts, not Jon. As long as I could keep my feelings to myself and act as a sister should act around her brother, then staying here would be an option for me. I’d have to talk to Baelish of course, to ensure that he wouldn’t turn on us lest I divulge some of his secrets to Lord Robin and Lord Royce. I would do it if I had too. I knew deep in my marrow that I would protect Jon and the North at any cost. 

 

I knew Jon was right when he said that I was just a pawn to Littlefinger. I’ve known it ever since he sold me to the Bolton’s and I knew it when I agreed to go back with him to the Eyrie. But I also knew that Jon needed me. He wouldn’t have said that he did if he didn’t mean it - it just wasn’t his way. So I knew the decision I’d have to make and this time I could not and would not change my mind. 

 

I was going to stay where I was happiest and where I knew that I belonged. 

 

The only thing that I had left to do was tell Jon. 

 

***

 

Ghost was lying by the dying embers of a fire in the solar when I entered. I added another log for the Direwolf’s comfort, to which he nuzzled my hand in thanks. I smiled, remembering that Lady too liked to lay in front of a fire on cold nights. How I missed my sweet girl, especially during times like this. She’d never failed to ease my heart before life became so hard. I gave the gentle beast one last rub down before leaving to knock on Jon’s door. 

 

I knocked gently a few times all to no avail. I couldn’t see a light beneath the door, nor hear him rummaging around but surely he was here. The guard who let me into the solar would have said otherwise, I was certain. I looked back at Ghost and he was still ill and ease, which gave me comfort, as I hesitantly opened the chamber door. 

 

It was dark as pitch inside of the room as I shut the door behind me. I could see a faint silhouette on the bed, which I assumed was Jon, as I made my way towards him. 

 

“Jon,” I whispered, not wanting to wake him but also wanting to announce my presence in the event he thought I was someone else. 

 

There was no reply save for a slight exhale of breath. 

 

He was asleep. 

 

I smiled as I approached the bed, setting my candle down on the nearest table as I took him in. Wisps of coal black curls lay across his forehead, delicate as a bird's feather. His face was relaxed and expressionless, nothing like the lines of distress you could see when he was thinking something over or making a decision. He looked so young and peaceful in his sleep. 

 

I couldn’t stop myself from smoothing one of the unruly curls off of his forehead, the soft, springy hair rebelling as it found itself on his face again. I smiled in earnest as I withdrew my hand and looked at the rest of him. 

 

He was lying on his back, one hand beneath his head and the other resting on his abdomen. I tried not to look, truly I did. I was a Lady, first and foremost, and I was aware that this whole situation was improper but I couldn’t help myself as I stared at the expanse of porcelain flesh in front of me. 

 

The first thing that stood out to me were the wounds. 

 

Dark slashes across his chest and muscled belly detailed his murder. A murder that was extraordinary to begin with seeing as Jon lay before me, living and breathing. Still, there was no denying the killing blow as it stretched across his heart over his chest. Tears stung my eyes as I felt outraged all over again. How dare anyone touch this man! How dare they spill his blood! 

 

I could feel my own heart pounding as I sat on the bed and touched his chest. His skin was warm to the touch as my fingers trailed over his firm breast before finally reaching the wound. The dark scar was raised and slightly warmer than the rest of his skin as I traced it back and forth, back and forth. I was lost in a daze as I continued the ministrations, agonizing over everything he has gone through, not only while he was at the Wall but before that, when he was just Ned Stark’s bastard. 

 

I wanted to take away all the hurt that I caused over the years but I knew that it was too late for that. I couldn’t change the past but I could ensure that the future was better. 

 

For both of us. 


	10. Update!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys, I just wanted to let you know that I haven't abandoned you! I will be responding to comments and posting another chapter soon. This week has been tough because I lost my job and now I've got to figure out what I'm going to do. :(   
> It's a crappy week and I'm trying to be positive about everything but it is hard. With that said, I love you all for sticking with the story even though I am a slow updater. I know it sucks trying to remember what's going on and then having to go back and reread chapters. I will *try* to post more frequently with longer chapters in the near future. I am unemployed now so I'll probably have more time. ;) 
> 
> See you soon!

:) :) :) :) :) 

Will update soon!


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